


He Blinded Me With Pepper Spray!

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bisexual Dean, Castiel is Not Okay, Chuck Shurley is Castiel's Parent, Clubbing, Dean is In Over His Head, Dean's First Kiss, First Kiss, First Meetings, Gay Bar, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Pansexual Castiel, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Shirtless Dean, you know the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-04
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-29 08:11:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7676830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Dr. Sexy? From Seattle Mercy Hospital?"</p><p>"Hey, I may have spent my teenage years in the closet, but I still had a favorite sweater." Cas laughs, which seems to ease Dean a little. "Anyway, tonight was my first experience out in public. It was Charlie's idea. She's hell-bent on getting me laid, but I just wanna learn the ropes. Chat, mingle, maybe get to first base..."</p><p>Cas's eyes widen at the casual confession. "Wait, you mean...? Would I have been a—?"</p><p>"First kiss?" Dean nods, the blush from earlier returning. "Yeah."</p><p>"No pressure, though, right?"</p><p>"Nah, you would've just had to set the bar for every guy ever."</p>
            </blockquote>





	He Blinded Me With Pepper Spray!

**Author's Note:**

> Again, my heart goes out to the families and friends affected by Orlando.

 

Cas leaves Purgatory Nightclub with one less number in his pocket and a fistful of extra cash.

It's not like his physical appearance is a stream of shots away from being pretty. In fact, he's hooked up with more people who want to suck _him_ dryer than a towel on a clothesline in Phoenix. It’s just the only person who caught his interest got roped by a redhead in a Princess Leia costume.

It really is Cas’s loss, too. The guy was _gorgeous._ Bright green eyes, fair caramel hair spiked higher than most of drinks in the establishment—he even wore eyeliner to match the black skinny jeans showing off enough bowlegs to ride from here to Texas. ("Sorry, angel," the bartender, Benny, a burly man with a salt and pepper beard drawls, "better luck next time.")

Besides, the night is still young, but Cas is peaking his thirties. It's probably better he leaves anyway before he embarrasses himself. The only thing he might pull on the dancefloor is a hip.

Suddenly, he hears footsteps follow fast behind him. As he rounds the corner, someone—a man, judging by the roughness and the radius of his palm—grabs his shoulder. Cas knocks the guy from behind with his left elbow and whips out his mace, spraying low. The figure staggers backwards with a loud hiss.

Cas jumps back, inspecting the man. It's not anyone he knows immediately, but those Granny Smiths (more like Honeycrisps, thanks to the power of modern defense weapons) are too bright to belong to just anyone. "Wait... you're the guy at the club."

The man retorts with a pained laugh as he tilts his head back to keep the blood from his nose in, "Yeah. I, ugh... I wanted to talk to you, but I got– _ah_ _shit_ , that stings—distracted."

"Yeah, I saw," Cas bites back, angrier now, "guess you're the Bad Wolf who eats Reds."

The man's eyes slowly come into focus only to bulge out again. "What? You mean Charlie?" He throws his head back in laughter. "No, no, she's my friend. She goes for Red's _sister_. She was trying to hook me up with these two guys, Jesse and Cesar, but I told her I had my eyes set on someone else... until you sprayed me."

"Oh," Cas says, rubbing his neck. "Sorry... about assuming, I mean. And you know, spraying you."

The man laughs, "It's cool. I probably deserved it for the first impression I put on you. Dean."

Cas accepts the hand that's offered to him. "Castiel. This is going to sound even more presumptuous of me, but how about we go back to my place? So you can get cleaned up. It's only a block away."

"As long as you, Luke, use your powers for _good_ ," Dean chuckles, a smile tugging his lips, "you don't sound presumptuous at all. Lead the way. Seriously, I'm still partially blind."

***

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

“A beer would be good, if you have it,” Dean replies, grinning. “Thanks.”

A sliver of steam pillows out the cracked bathroom door as Cas hands him a change of clothes. Cas runs a size smaller than Dean, so he made sure to grab a light hoodie and a pair of jeans from Zeke’s, his cousin and former roommate as of a week ago when Cas accidentally “wookied” him to his car (long story), drawer.

The mace really only hit Dean’s face and upper torso, but Dean insisted he needed to get out of the “black spandex death trap” he was in before the shower. Cas isn’t one to argue when it comes to fashion, since most of his wardrobe is inspired by Constantine. Though, he’ll definitely miss those pronounced thunder thighs.

He tries keeping himself distracted in the kitchen, but to no avail. Dean’s in his shower, mildly making love to his soap and, oh yeah, _naked._ He’s also singing, which would be cute if his voice isn’t so goddamn deep and the song he’s singing isn’t “Feel like Makin’ Love”. Cas actually _drops_ Dean’s root beer when Dean hits the part about “a night and day of satisfyin’”. The screeching shatter on the tile is the only thing keeping him from palming himself right then and there.

“Are you okay?” he hears Dean ask mid-stride to the couch. “I heard a loud crash.”

Cas turns around and holy _fuck,_ there’s a vertical valley of wet, tanned skin attacking his eyes. Dean’s not ridiculously buff, but he’s definitely trim, and his biceps are the size of pineapples. Even Dean’s towel can’t handle it as it slips a little more down his waist. “Uh… yeah, I just dropped something. W-why’re you—?” _In my_ _living room, practically naked. Handsome beyond belief. Physically abundant. Interested in me._

Dean seems to sense Cas’s distress because he holds up his hands like he’s been caught red-handed for a crime he was _definitely_ happy to commit. “I’m just gonna grab my phone and text Charlie, lover boy. She’s probably sucking face and other things with some Greek goddess, which is all the more reason.”

“O-oh,” Cas stammers, managing a small smile. “Sorry.”

A toothy smirk latches onto Dean’s face. “God, I’m over my head.”

Cas tilts his head at that. “Why do you say that?” 

“Because you’re _way_ cuter than I thought.”

"Uh, you clean up well," Cas notes, gesturing to Dean’s bandaged nose and slightly red eyes, trying to distract Dean from the obvious blush pinching his cheeks like an estranged aunt at a family reunion.

Dean pauses mid-text and bites his lip. Looks like Aunt Gretchen is getting around to every nephew this year. "You don't think the red around my eyes looks too bad?"

"Are you kidding? You look like the drummer from Twenty One Pilots."

"Did he get maced?"

"No... at least I don't think so. It's their style. It actually looks pretty cool."

Dean nods, then glances down, noticing his still very much bare state. "I better, uhm..."

"Oh yeah," Cas laughs nervously. "You can use the spare bedroom if the heat bothers you. The bathroom doesn't get good ventilation."

"I'd like to test that out sometime," Dean retorts, wiggling his brows as he saunters off.

Cas gulps. This is officially the longest night of his life.

***

Twelve am finds two perfectly good strangers on a couch, talking. Cas learns Dean's studying Folklore and Mythology at KCU, which he has a knack for. It’s funny, because Cas was majoring in Religious Studies before his father, a year after being diagnosed with mesothelioma, passed away. Cas stopped believing altogether, stopped trying to understand a higher power or a bigger purpose. Like his father, he pissed away most of his early adulthood into a tall lager before finding his calling helping people at local homeless shelters. Humanity, that became his higher power, his bigger purpose. And he doesn't need a degree to show for that.

Dean, on the other hand, finds people to be overrated. He says what saved him was books. Knowledge. "It's an untapped resource," he says, "everything we need to know about the world is there. We just have to know where to look."

"Speaking of," Cas muses, leaning back with his own root beer bottle, "you never told me your story."

"My story?"

"Your story," Cas repeats. "How does a gorgeous guy like you find himself at a gay club?"

Dean fiddles with the label on his own root beer. The blush is erased from his face despite the flattery, replaced by a sheet as white as the ones they use to cover the newly departed. Something tells Cas Dean's had to pull a sheet over a few people's eyes.

Cas shakes his head. "I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that."

"No, I want to." Dean faces Cas. Cas folds his hands in his lap, letting him know he's all ears. Dean takes a deep breath. "I'm bisexual. I came out a little over a month ago, even though I've known for a while. Like, ever since my dad caught me beating off to an eight by ten of Dr. Sexy."

"Dr. Sexy? From Seattle Mercy Hospital?"

"Hey, I may have spent my teenage years in the closet, but I still had a favorite sweater." Cas laughs, which seems to ease Dean a little. "Anyway, tonight was my first experience out in public. It was Charlie's idea. She's hell-bent on getting me laid, but I just wanna learn the ropes. Chat, mingle, maybe get to first base..."

Cas's eyes widen at the casual confession. "Wait, you mean...? Would I have been a—?"

"First kiss?" Dean nods, the blush from earlier returning. "Yeah."

"No pressure, though, right?"

"Nah, you would've just had to set the bar for every guy ever."

Cas grins, shaking his head. "Right. Well, that certainly explains the getup."

"Hey!"

"Dean, you look like an extra from _Blade II_."

"Okay, alright," Dean says, "you've fired your shots."

Cas leans forward, hands still folded neatly over his lap. “Dean, listen. I didn’t come out as pansexual until I was seventeen, and that was _after_ I learned my father was bi. I didn’t have sex with another guy until I was twenty, and he didn’t even know how to give a proper hand job.”

“Yikes,” Dean comments, cringing a little. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. My point is it’s not about me. I know you just came out, but there’s no rush, okay? Unless…”

Dean’s eyes fall on Cas’s lips. “Unless I want to,” he finishes, licking his own before nodding. “I do.”

“Okay,” Cas says, mostly to reassure himself. “Okay.”

He’s kissed a dozen people in his lifetime—and those people either practiced day and night with a pillow or Cas wasn’t their first kiss—so it’s not like he’s inexperienced. But Cas also remembers his first kiss with a guy, remembers how awkwardly he grabbed Balthazar’s face after he grabbed his, because he thought the covers of those Nicholas Sparks novels were accurate enough. He remembers Balthazar’s lips moving on his and the instinctual panic that kicked in like, _oh, I have to kiss back,_ and the fat, slippery tongue that slid down his throat like a Khan worm, and then it was pretty much over after that.

Torture, basically. His first kiss with another guy was torture. He doesn’t want that for Dean.

“Okay,” Dean repeats. They burst into laughter. When they compose themselves, Dean’s eyes meet Cas’s again like back at the club, minus the pressure of the strobe lights and the music.

Cas leans forward a little more until he aligns with the plain of Dean’s lower lip. Cas can smell his musky aftershave despite his shower and the stubble that scratches his chin, practically urging him on. He casts one last look at Dean, whose breathing becomes more labored, but he nods, causing their lips to brush like a fan brush against an oil canvas. Time slows. Cas can feel it dripping off Dean’s lips.

Dean’s lips are wet, most likely from all the licking, but soft, unlike his chapped pair. Cas closes around his mouth, and Dean responds with faint tongue. Cas accepts, allowing Dean to take control. Dean pushes up when he closes around Cas’s mouth again, and Cas’s mouth falls open, breathing heavy. Dean’s in no better condition, sucking in a breath as he leans against Cas’s forehead. Cas grips the hairs on the back of his neck.

“Jesus Christ,” Cas respires. He feels a laugh shaking Dean’s ribcage.

“Did I just convert you back?”

Cas shakes his head with a shudder, “I’m not sure, but I did see a white light in the distance.” He pauses, eyeing Dean. “You’re not catfishing me, right? You actually haven’t kissed another guy?”

“Nah, definitely still a virgin.” Dean cocks his head, face turning bright red as a smile breaks across his face. “Never thought those words would come from my mouth.”

Cas laughs, hand cupping the side of Dean’s face, “Guess we’ll just have to keep practicing.”

 

 


End file.
